A Drifting Rose
by Pose
Summary: It's seventh year, and Ron had been killed in the final battle. Harry goes out to the lake to reflect on his friend, at a time when he should be celebrating.


A Drifting Rose  
  
It was a warm June evening, and the sinking sun was sending brilliant pink rays skimming across the sky. A light breeze shifted the leaves of the Forbidden Forest, and rippled the calm waters of the lake.  
  
Harry Potter, the Boy who lived, walked down to stand at the edge of the Lake, a contented smile on his face. Gazing into its clear blue depths, he grinned to himself. How many times had he stood here over the years? Now the spot harbored many memories, all too soon left behind. Turning around suddenly, he let his sweaty Quiddich robes fall to the ground, and kicked off his trainers. Pulling a thin t-shirt over his lightly tanned shoulders, he tossed it onto his discarded shoes. He retreated a few paces, and held a deep breath. In a rare moment of mirth, he took a running dive into the lake.  
  
He stayed under until his pounding lungs forced him to the surface. Gasping, he sucked in fresh air. Water streamed down from his ever messy hair, still as black as it had been when h first crossed the lake as a first year.  
  
Diving under once more, he rolled over, and slowly released the air from his lungs, watching bubbles burst from his lips, and chase their way one by one towards the light. Flipping over once more, he went deeper, scraping his chest over the smooth pebbles that lined the lake floor.  
  
Still high from that afternoon's victory over Slytherin, Harry grabbed some of the pebbles, before planting his feet on the bottom and launching himself upwards. Reaching the surface, his hand shot out, and the gathered pebbles arced out over the waters, each starting band of ripples where it broke the surface of the water in contact.  
  
Harry was looking forward to the celebration party that night, even though it meant he was banned from the common room for hours prior to the event. Harry rolled onto his back, relaxing, using the air in his lungs to keep him afloat. They had won the match, even though.Ron.  
  
Memories put a dampen on Harry's exultant mood, and he let himself drift into the centre of the lake, as his mind led him down memory lane.  
  
Ron, in first year, pale before the sorting ceremony. In second, terrified as he faced off his great fear of spiders in the Forbidden Forest. In third, grinning at Gryffindor's final triumph in the Quiddich cup. In fourth, the look on his fact as he flew Harry's firebolt. Fifth, his eyebrows furrowed in the last minute of their OWLs. In sixth year. god, Ron. Harry closed his yes as the memories washed over him. Ron had died for his best friend, saving him from his worst enemy.  
  
Harry had tried to stop him. But even as he went to his death, he had had a strange look on his face, almost a half smile. As if to say 'its okay'. Harry had defeated his enemy that day, and vanquished the demons of his past. And all because of Ron.  
  
Ron, who, in the end, had outshone his brother in a way he would never have been able to imagine. Friend to the Boy who lived, Savior of all hope.  
  
A sharp splash against his head caught Harry's attention. Deep in thought, he had drifted back over to the shore of the lake. Starting from his reverie, he floundered for a moment, before remembering where he was. Swimming slowly to the pebbled beach, he looked up.  
  
It was Ginny Weasley, up to her knee's in water, robes held up with one hand. In the other was a large pebble. Harry realised that she must have been the source of the splash that had startled him. Harry smiled gently. He had become close to Ginny in the weeks following Ron's death. To one, a brother, to the other a friend, both felt his absence like a physical void in themselves.  
  
'Hey, Gin.' She smiled back.  
  
''Hi Harry.'  
  
There was a friendly silence, and Harry found himself comparing the Ginny who stood before him to the awkward twelve-year-old he had once saved. It could have been someone completely different. Confidence, calmness, and understanding were all things the Ginny Weasley had come to possess. Harry, on the other hand, had strength, cougar, and generosity.  
  
Stepping up onto the grass, Harry sat down, cradling his elbows on his knees, looking out at the sunset across the forest. He said nothing as Ginny joined him, the damp bottom of her school robed catching on the grass. As the last rays died from the sly, water from his sopping hair ran down Harry's back. He shivered slightly. After a few minutes, Ginny broke the silence.  
  
'We will never forget him.' Harry didn't ask how she knew.  
  
'I couldn't, even if I wanted to. Especially not here. There're so many memories.'  
  
Ginny reached out and clasped his hand, a tear rolling slowly down her face.  
  
'He lives in our memories, the good and the bad.'  
  
Harry did not reply, and they sat in silence for many minutes. Finally he turned to her, looking into eyes bright with unshed tears. He pulled her gently to her feet and hugged her tight, strengthening her with his contact. She clung to him as if letting go meant falling into oblivion. Harry closed his eyes as he felt her breath gently into the crook of his neck.  
  
Ginny pulled away just a little, and Harry felt her eyes scanning his face, now filled with a different emotion. She leaned into him, and he groaned softly.  
  
'Ron.' His voice was helpless.  
  
Ginny reached up and put her finger to his lips, at the same time reaching for his hand, which she guided to her neck.  
  
'Ron would have understood. And besides, I've still got more than enough protective older brothers for you to worry about.'  
  
Her eyes creased in amusement for a moment, before she pressed her lips gently to his. A second later she moved slightly, and let her breath ghost gently over his cheek and ear. She closed her eyes and leaned inwards, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
They stood like that for what seems an age, Harry's mind racing. Resisting was denying his feelings, but accepting.? Suddenly his mind flashed back to a conversation he had had during his fifth summer at the Weasleys. He recalled Ron's words.  
  
'.if she's got to be with someone, it might as well be you mate.'  
  
His heart calmed, and he looked upwards, mouthing a silent 'thank you' to his best friend. He put his hands on Ginny's face and gently moved her round until she was forced to look directly into his gleaming eyes. He kissed her softly, letting his lips linger over hers, before he stepped back, and swiftly scooped up his clothes.  
  
He pulled his t-shirt over his head, and tucked his robed and shoed under one arm, before taking Ginny's hand with the other.  
  
They walked slowly up to the castle, Ginny with her head resting on Harry shoulder, warm hands interlocking. They were happy, and watching over them, he was sure Ron would be happy, too.  
.....  
  
Hey, well this is a stand alone fic. I wrote this because one of my friends has been begging to see some of what I write but I am persistently refusing to give her my penname so she can look it up for herself. She made me promise to write her something over half term, so here it is.  
  
Let me know what you think, though I have no plans to do anythinhg morew with this. I actually wrote most of this is various English lessons, (as well as others) where I had either finished my work early, or was terminally bored. Thanks for any reviews - Pose 


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